How to Save a Soul
by Eve Royal
Summary: The day had come. The day they had all feared had finally arrived... And it was all her fault. I/W; from "Thirty Kisses"
1. Chapter 1

A/N: As many of you know, I had a story up called "Thirty Kisses." It was my hope to actually write 30 stories for this couple. But, as you can all see that it's been two years since I updated, I've decided to take that story down and post each 'story' as a separate oneshot. That way, if I do come up with any ideas I can post them, but you're not forever waiting for something that might never arrive.

Again, I apologize. I hope you forgive me.

This one has two parts.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The Host_

by Stephenie Meyer. Idea taken from LiveJournal Community "30 Kisses".

Theme #21: Violence; Pillage/Plunder; Extortion

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How to Save a Soul

We had been found.

They had entered the caves, waving human arsenal and screaming their disgusting profanities.

"Traitors! Parasite lovers!"

Death. Death _everywhere_.

They entered the plaza first, dirty and horrid; bullets and shrapnel screeching across the rocky walls, leaving white markings against the grey and sending sparks flying all around the room.

Trudy, Lacey, and Candy screamed as the sparks burned their faces, blinded their sight, forcing them into vulnerability. They were easy picking for the humans' guns; their screams cutting off sharply with their life force.

Doc was trying to protect Sharon and Maggie and was shot straight through the forehead for his heroic efforts. He stumbled back into Sharon's arms as the blood dripped down his face, leaving crimson trails on his cheeks His eyes dimmed and his mouth opened in a silent scream. The last thing he ever heard was Sharon's heartbroken shriek.

Maggie took over for Doc; standing over the wailing Sharon and brandishing her gun with all her might. But the shadowed humans slunk away from her shots, unaffected by any that might have hit their target. It took five shots to knock her off her feet.

Sharon was easy picking and her wailing turned into a strangled gurgle as blood seeped out of her mouth. She fell unto Doc's chest, her last breaths heavy and aching as blood spilled unto him and coated his shirt, now a mixture of brown and dark red.

Jeb fought back like Maggie did and I believe some of his shots actually hit those vermin. He told us to run and covered our escape route, sacrificing himself for our sake. He didn't make a sound as he fell.

Through the hallways we ran, Jamie holding mine and Mel's hands; Ian and Jared clutching ours. Kyle and Sunny followed, with him dragging her sobbing self after him. Behind us were the final screams and cries of our friends. They didn't stand a chance.

They wanted us. Us most of all because of Sunny and I – the invaders who had taken it all away from them. And the others because they loved us. Loved the enemy. Traitors. Isn't there a pit of hell designed just for them?

Kyle went down first, his knees buckling beneath him as they shot him down. He tried to push Sunny ahead, to hand her off to me, but she wouldn't hear of it and instead clung to him as shots pierced his back. As Ian continued to drag me down the hall I saw Kyle's eyes become glossy and his lips form the word, "Jodi..."

Or was it, "Sunny?"

Then I was hit and pain shot through my arm so suddenly I shrieked. It was fire; horrible, ugly fire burning my upper arm.

Ian paled, so quickly that I feared he too had been shot. He scooped me up, my hand tearing away from Jamie's, and hugged me close. Then he ran, faster than before.

Our friends followed. And they died.

Ian's shoulder blocked my view, but I heard the shots and felt the sparks and cried out for them. I heard Jamie's sickening gasp, Mel's last cry, and Jared's agonized shout as he fought back. And still, he fell.

We ran, Ian panting from exhaustion, his tears dripping from his face unto me to intermingle with mine. His tears followed the same trail mine had travelled down the contours of my face and his grip steadily tightened.

And then we were trapped.

Somehow, some way, they had blocked the entrances and exits; barred our way. They had found paths I didn't even know existed.

They had killed us already.

Ian realised this at the same time I did and he bit his lip in pain. His eyes held the same fear, the perfectly dark fear that had gripped the rest of us long ago, but he kept quiet. Looking down at me, I was petrified by his eyes and the emotion the lingered in them.

"I will protect you, Wanderer," he swore, his face hardening.

"No!" I gasped, my hands reaching for his face. The bullet still lodged in my arm hindered me and I was forced to lower them again.

His eyes tightened from, I knew, my pain. "I have to," he explained, his voice so gently its song contradicted the horrors around us. "There's no life worth living without you."

I shook my head fiercely. "No, no, no, no, no," I chanted, burying my head in his chest. "Nooo..." I moaned in desperation.

"Wand-Ah!" My name turned into a gasp and he staggered, somehow keeping me safe in the cocoon his arms had created.

"Ian!" I cried, terrified for him. "Ian?"

And then, I felt it. The wetness beneath my hand. I straightened and slowly peeled my hand away from his chest. The cry jumped from my throat.

Blood. Horrible, poisonous crimson spreading across his shirt, staining the material with his life.

"Oh no." I shook my head. "No, no, no..."

I hadn't heard the shot. This couldn't be happening; it couldn't, it couldn't...

And then the next shot rang out. There was no mistaking it.

He gasped, the sound painful even to my ears and he fell, hard, unto his knees. The fall jarred me as his arms released me and pain leaped across my arm as I landed on the rockiness of the ground. I ignored it, pushing myself up so I could look at him.

"_Ian!_" I clutched at him, my small hands fisting in his shirt. "Stay with me!" I screamed.

His face was pale, so pale, like a corpse pale; and his eyes were already becoming glassy. "...love... you," he slurred.

"_No_!" I screamed, feeling the tears streaming down my cheeks. "_You can't leave me_!"

I crashed my lips to his, desperate to hold him to me, to keep him here. I pried his lips apart as if I could breath life into him. The tears fell harder and faster as his blood seeped into my mouth, coating our lips. It was so very, very salty that there was no mistaking it, and I sobbed at the taste.

And then he fell, slack against my lips, with only my hands keeping him upright. I let him go and stared into his beautiful face for a long moment before laying him beside me. I watched him, hoping I would see his chest rise, or his fingers twitch; but he was still. So still.

I raised my head and looked into the eyes of those who had destroyed all that I loved, everything I needed. With my head held high I waited for what they would do to me.

"Now, bugger," one of them cackled, raising his gun. "Your life is over."

I shook my head, my hands reaching down. "You already destroyed it," I murmured, my hands finding one of his. They curled around his large hand, cradling it with all the love I had for him.

A part of me hoped they would make me suffer for what I had caused. The death of everybody. And another part prayed it would be quick. I wanted to find Ian again.

- - - To Be Concluded - - -


	2. Part II

A/N: As many of you know, I had a story up called "Thirty Kisses." It was my hope to actually write 30 stories for this couple. But, as you can all see that it's been two years since I updated, I've decided to take that story down and post each 'story' as a separate oneshot. That way, if I do come up with any ideas I can post them, but you're not forever waitingfor something that might never arrive.

Again, I apologize. I hope you forgive me.

Second part.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The Host_ by Stephenie Meyer. Idea taken from LiveJournal Community "30 Kisses".

Theme #6: The Space Between Dream and Reality

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I twitched in my seat, and resisted the overwhelming temptation to honk the horn. For while that would wake up Kyle, it would also wake up Sunny; and Kyle would crush me. And if I was crushed, than no one would be driving the truck, and then...

Kyle's snore interrupted my thought. I growled to myself. There was nothing worse than Kyle's snoring. _Nothing._

As my eyes caught the sign of the motel we had already decided on meeting at, I couldn't stop a wry smile. Well, _almost_ nothing could be worse than Kyle's snoring. Being Wanda-less would be much, much worse.

With a relieved sigh, I pulled over into the motel parking lot, and scanned the doors. We had already decided on a symbol we would place on the door to tell the others which room we were staying in. Melanie's brilliant idea of having Wanda explain that her host had been very superstitious and suffered from panic attacks had been passed unto her, and that she needed to have a horseshoe on her door in order to sleep properly had yet to fail. Wanda, at first, hadn't been convinced it would work, but most souls are like young children, and they had no reason to doubt her.

I unbuckled my seat-belt after parking in front of Room 17, and got out of the truck. I slid open the passenger's door, and glared at my brother.

"Kyle!" I punched his shoulder, and hid my sadistic chuckle when he spluttered awake.

"W-what?" he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"Your turn," I said simply, tossing him the keys. They landed in his lap and he blinked down at them as if he wasn't sure what to do with them. "I'll see you when we get home, okay?"

"Yeah," he muttered, unbuckling his seat-belt. "Whatever."

I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the way. "Thanks, Kyle," I whispered. "You're a true pal."

"Shut up."

I stepped around the car, leaving the door open for Kyle. He would've just gotten back at me later if I had shut it in his face. I walked over to the door with the horseshoe on it, and turned the knob. They had left it open for me.

I closed the door quietly behind me, and peered into the darkness. I could barely distinguish the forms of Jared and Melanie snuggled together on one of the beds, it was so dark. Only a single shaft of light that had sneaked through in-between the curtains was lighting up the room. I tip-toed around them, remembering that Melanie was just as grumpy as Kyle when she was woken needlessly. Jared would probably let her go for my throat. Some late night entertainment – See the grump kill the helpless bystander! Special episode on tonight!

Wow. No wonder the souls felt we were too aggressive.

I crept around the room, looking for Wanda. She usually stayed near Melanie and Jared, sometimes insisting to take the couch. She thought I didn't know that she offered, but Melanie would tell me later. Jamie had told me so a couple times too. My little Wanderer was too kind for her own good.

She _was_ on the couch. I frowned to myself, annoyed at her infernal generosity. Maybe if she used it wisely, then I wouldn't mind so much. But she never took care of herself; and honestly? Sleeping on the couch couldn't be good for you.

I stepped over, and leaned over the back of the couch, hoping to see her peaceful face. She was so pretty when she slept. She looked like a perfect angel, one who could never do anybody any harm. Wherever she was in her dreams, there she was safe. Sleeping away without a single concern...

My frown deepened as I finally read her expression. She wasn't happy. She was having a nightmare.

Her face was contorted, her body cringing away from whatever horrors her mind had created. Whimpers escaped her pale lips, and tears trickled down her smooth cheeks.

"No..." she moaned; and I winced away from her pain when her voice broke into a sob. "No, no, no, no, no..."

"Wanda!" I whispered as loud as I dared. She would hate herself if she found out Melanie and Jared's sleep had been disrupted. "Wanda, wake up!"

Her sobs grew louder, and she curled into herself, trying to hide the hurt inside of her. I sighed unhappily. People couldn't deal with nightmares alone. They needed someone beside them.

I raised my head, and glanced into the crack in the curtains. The couple stars that were visible through my small window glinted down at me, begging me to come out and join them.

I looked back at Wanda and her trembling body. Alright, stars. As you wish.

I leaned over the couch, and lifted Wanda into my arms. She cried out, her head whipping around with such force that I thought she might hurt herself. I shifted my grip so I could hold her head in place, and her cry trailed off into a soft keening. I shuddered. What a sound!

I turned around, and started at Jared's sleepy gaze. He looked at Wanda, then back at me, asking me silently what was going on.

"She's having a bad dream," I hissed, walking across the room. "I'm taking her outside; maybe she'll calm down. Go back to sleep," I finished, opening the door with my free hand.

"'Kay," Jared whispered. "Good luck."

I shot him a resigned look. "Thanks," I muttered, closing the door behind me.

I slid down into a sitting position next to our room, with my back against the wall. I repositioned her in my lap, so I could see her face. She was still turning her head back and forth, moaning softly beneath her breath. I shook her lightly.

"Wanda! Wake up!"

She sobbed and clutched at me, her fingers fisting in my shirt. "Ian! Ian, no!"

My heart broke, the pain shooting across my chest. Oh, Wanda.

I bit my lip and shook her again. "Wanda, wake up! I'm alright; just wake up!"

Her body erupted into tremors, and my arms shook from the intensity of her pain. "Nooo..." She gulped in air, then rejected it; choking on it as her tears fell into her open mouth.

I growled softly. She had to wake up before she killed herself. "Wanda! Wake up!" I cried, shaking her as hard as I dared. She was so small. So easy to break.

Her eyes opened, her shaking slowing to a stop. My breathing returned to me in my relief, and I laughed softly when I saw her perfect silvery eyes. "Wanda..." I breathed, cupping her cheek in my hand. "Thank goodness..."

She blinked at me, the last tears from her nightmare sliding down her cheeks. I watched as one crossed over her nose before dripping off her face. "Ian...?" she asked, her light voice quiet in its wonderment.

I chuckled. There she was. "Hey," I said, stroking her cheek.

She frowned. "But, I... I didn't feel anything."

I cocked my head at her. What? "What?"

"I didn't feel anything..." she repeated. She frowned deeper. "Didn't it hurt you?"

"Didn't _what_ hurt me?" I asked, confused. What on earth was she talking about? I hadn't left the truck all day. And Kyle had only punched me a couple times... or more; sometimes I lost track. But she couldn't know that.

"Dying," she whispered. "Doesn't it hurt?"

My mouth dropped. Dying? Who died?

Her head lowered and she stared at my chest. "It didn't hurt... They didn't make me suffer... How odd..." she continued, her voice soft. She looked back up at me. "Why are you here?"

I smiled despite myself. Even if I didn't know what she was talking, I knew the answer to this question. "Because you are. I'll never leave you, Wanda."

A light blush touched her cheeks like it always did when I expressed my adoration of her. "But... Why here?"

I looked around. "You don't like the outdoors?" I asked, teasing her.

"It's just... so open..." she murmured.

"Does somebody have agoraphobia?" I grinned down at her. Her breathing had finally returned to normal.

"Perhaps..." She stared right into my eyes. "Ian? Don't you humans believe in heaven?"

"Some of us do. Why?" I asked.

"Do you?"

I frowned softly at her determination. "Yeah. I guess so," I shrugged. "Never really thought about it." Although, maybe I should. After all, being a minority should shift your priorities. I could die any day. Did I believe in heaven?"

"There wouldn't be a place for me there," she said, phrasing it like a statement. I opened my mouth to object – if there was anyone deserving of it! - but she placed her small hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. "There isn't, Ian. So... If I'm not in heaven... But you're here... Where are we?"

My shoulders slumped. She still thought we were dead? "Wanda, how many times do I have to tell you; we're not dead. We're alive."

The line that expressed her annoyance appeared on her forehead. "No, Ian. I saw you die."

I shivered. No wonder she was crying like that. "Wanda, I'd like to think I'd remember dying." I frowned at her. "I didn't die. I was driving the truck."

She frowned now, her face masking into confusion. "The truck?"

"We're on a raid, remember?" I watched as her expression grew more and more confused. What kind of nightmare made you forget everything that was real?

My mind drew up the image of her keening in agony. A really, really bad one.

"No," she disagreed, shaking her head. The moonlight caught her hair as it moved and turned it silver. I couldn't stop myself from reaching for it and clutching it in my hand. "We were at the caves... And we got caught..."

"No, Wanda. We're on a raid. We haven't been home for three days now."

She shook her head. "But... I remember..."

"It was a dream, Wanda. A nightmare. We're both alive."

She continued to shake her head. "No..."

My eyes narrowed. Stubborn soul. "Yes."

Her hands fisted, and I was reminded of a little girl getting mad at me years ago. The memory almost made me laugh. "No. We're dead."

"Then where are we?" I challenged, raising my voice.

"I don't know!" she shouted. "But we're not alive!"

My hands gripped her shoulders. She had to listen to reason. "I am alive. You are alive. You are also driving me up the wall, but that doesn't matter right now. You have to understand-"

"You died!" she screamed. "In my arms! I tasted your blood in my mouth..." she chokes up, turned her face away from me.

I growled. "I did not die!" I shouted. I pulled her towards me and kissed her, forcing her to respond. She did, and her hands flew to my shirt like always, and she craned her neck so I could kiss her deeper. It was nice to kiss her when she was so close to me. It was so much easier.

It was an angry kiss, full of the passion I was hiding inside so I didn't scream at her, and full of the fear she had just experienced. Her fingers began to scratch at me, and they pattered across my shirt as they searched for the buttons she always undid. When she realized that there wasn't any buttons on this shirt, she groaned into my mouth and pressed herself harder against me, forcing every inch of us closer. I moaned at the softness of her curves and the friction her squirming caused. When I broke away with a gasp, she went for my jaw, licking off the sweat of the day. I sighed - she was _way_ too good at that - and directed her lips back to mine. Kissing her was always the sweetest of tortures, always knowing you had to stop but never wanting to.

But we? We really needed to stop soon. My hands slid down her arms, caressing each inch of her perfectly smooth skin and enjoying the way goose bumps broke the surface as I did so. I slowly travelled lower and lower, taking my time because I really, really didn't want to stop listening tothe sexy sounds she was making. When I reached her waist, I pulled up her shirt just enough to span my hands across her bare stomach. I slowly rubbed circles on her skin and eased up on the kissing. And waited for the immediate response.

With a low sigh her body began to relax, falling limp against me and her searching fingers stopping their exploration. With a mental chuckle -it _always_ worked -I released her lips, feeling the burn in my lungs. We both needed to breathe. I watched her pant for a long moment. "Wanda?"

She glanced into my eyes. "Ian?" she murmured, her voice still low from the kiss. Or the make out session. I wasn't in the mood for specifics.

I stroked her hair. Its silkiness was a different kind of softness from her skin, but just as good to feel in a completely different way.

"You can't be dead. Because you are so amazing you'd have to go to heaven. And heaven... It wouldn't be heaven for you if the world didn't make some sort of sense. And this world doesn't make any sense. You are a soul and I am a human. If this was really heaven, Wanda, we wouldn't need bodies. Because you've always felt that you've stolen this body. And you wouldn't want to take away someone else's chance of happiness.

"So, Wanderer. You are still a soul and I am still a human, and we are alive. And if you dare to tell me anything else, I think I'll have to knock some serious sense into you. So, if you're quite done disagreeing with me – which is kind of stupid since my logic is a lot nicer than yours, no offence – can we please keep our voices down before we wake someone and your nightmare becomes reality?"

She blinked up at me. "We're really alive?"

"Yes."

"It was... just a dream?"

I nodded. "A horrible, very realistic one, but a dream nevertheless."

Her breath caught in her throat and her hands flew up to her face. "Oh... Oh my..." Then her face crumpled and she fell into my arms, crushing her tiny body to my chest as she sobbed.

I wrapped my arms around her. "Shhh..." I murmured. "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay," I soothed.

She whimpered and dug herself further into my arms. "You're alive," she blubbered. "I... Oh, Ian..."

I clutched her a little tighter. "I know. I dream too." And I did. I couldn't even tell her how many times I had dreamt of loosing her, some way or another. "But I'm here."

"Stay with me?" she asked, croaking the words out between sobs.

"Always," I swore, rocking her back and forth.

- - - END - - -


End file.
